


Soldier again

by Elanor_Hermione



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Sherlock Holmes/John Watson - Freeform, John doesn't forgive Mary, M/M, Not Beta Read, Past Mary Morstan/John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elanor_Hermione/pseuds/Elanor_Hermione
Summary: Love can't be build up on lies, and John's love for Mary ended when he faced the truth about her.But he can't leave her: now there's a child he has to think of.
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Soldier again

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! :)  
> English is not my first language, and since I'm not particularly good at writing and I need a lot of practice, I thought: "What's the best way of practising? Fanfiction, of course!"  
> So here I am. Please, let me know if there are mistakes and where I can improve.  
> Enjoy and have a nice day! :)

There she was, sitting on an armchair. The woman he knew as Mary Elizabeth Morstan, the liar he married, the one who dared to shoot his lov- his best friend.  
“So, are you okay?” he asked, trying to start a conversation. There was nobody in that room but them, and even though the fire was right behind him, he felt cold and uncomfortable in that lovely living room full of Christmas decorations.  
“Oh! Are we doing conversation today? It really is Christmas!” John used to love her sarcastic, sassy answers and comebacks, but now he could not do anything but hate her tone: it was her fault if their marriage was failing and he couldn't look at her anymore, let alone talk to her.  
He took the A.G.R.A. pen drive out of his pocket, the very pen she had given him months ago in Baker Street, and rolled it round his fingers. She looked surprised and somehow indignant, as if they had nothing to say about it.  
“Have you read it? Have you?” she asked.  
John sighed, looking down at the wooden floor; when Mary had handed him that pen drive his first instinct was to grab it and read everything, to know and understand who she was, but then she had stated something that changed his mind: “You won't love me when you've finished”.  
Now, the problem was not whether he loved her or not: despite Sherlock's help, he still had serious trust issues, and knowing that who he used to love had made up her whole life made any feeling he had for her disappear. The problem was that he would probably hate her if he read that pen drive, and he couldn't allow his child to live in a disfunctional and full of hatred family, where their father couldn't bear their mother's presence.  
His mind was desperately shouting, asking him to divorce and forget her.  
“I've thought long and hard about what I want to say to you. These are prepared words, Mary. I've chosen these words with care.”  
But his heart was shouting even louder, asking him to pretend and stay with her, at least trying to appear in love with her for his baby's sake.  
“The problems of your past – he started, breathing deeply and keeping his voice under strict control – are your business. The problems of your future...”  
That was probably one of the most important moments of his life: he had to choose between his mind and his heart, between his wellbeing and his child's, between freedom and duty.  
“... Are my privilege. It's all I have to say, it's all I need to know. No, I didn't read it.” he dropped the pen into the fireplace, and hugged her: he could feel her sobbing in his shoulder, but he didn't actually care. Mary Watson was now a stranger to him, nothing more than his baby's mother.  
And despite his words, he did not forgive her at all, the wound she inflicted was still open and bleeding, not something he could easily forget nor forgive.  
John hated lying, he always tried to tell the truth when possible, but in that room, with that woman, truth was not an option.

Somehow Sherlock had a plan to defeat Magnussen, and he quickly found himself in the garden walking towards an helicopter.  
“Did you bring your gun as I suggested ?” the detective asked, looking in John's eyes.  
“Why would I bring my gun to your parents' house for Christmas dinner?!”  
“Is it in your coat?”  
“Yes”  
They laughed.  
Here, on a case with Sherlock, everything felt right. Leaving Holmes' house was like leaving his troubles, his worries and most importantly Mary behind, as if by jumping on that helicopter he could start his life again. But he knew that these were only dreams and desires, he knew that nothing would change, he knew that Baker Street was no longer his home, even though it felt like that more than anywhere else. Because now he was not only John Hamish Watson, blogger and doctor: now he was John Hamish Watson, father. And he had to do his best to give his child happiness, and if that could be achieved by staying with Mary and pretending to forgive her, well, that's what he would do.  
As a soldier and army doctor he always followed his orders, even the ones he didn't like at all, and this was just another order.  
For his unborn child he would be a soldier again.


End file.
